


This Is Not That Kind Of Life

by theteacuptempest



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, original timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theteacuptempest/pseuds/theteacuptempest
Summary: Clarice Ferguson meets a woman on the battle field in 2023. Psylocke is beautiful and powerful and everything Clarice wishes she could have had in better world. But this is not a better world.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> I hope this exchange was good to you, VampirePaladin, and that you enjoy this work.

“Watch out!” 

Clarice ducks on instinct. Broken metal soars overhead, crashing into a building just scant feet away. Clarice looks up to where Piotr is staring at her, nodding to him to signal she’s alright. He turns just in time to block a car being thrown at him and Clarice opens a portal to step away from the blast she can see forming within the other Sentinel.

This has become life for them.

She only means to take the portal to get further down the street, just enough to get behind the blast and help James get close enough to the other Sentinel to try another attack. But the Sentinel smart and growing smarter, and when she steps out of the portal Clarice finds herself needing to make another. And then another. And another still to escape the barrage of objects being thrown her way.

Before she can seek out where the others are and get her bearings, she finds herself far to the back of the battle field. A car gets thrown too close by before she can assess the situation, knocking her off balance. Clarice feels something in her ankle twist and pull as she falls. A second later she realizes she needs to move, but it’s too late. Another car is heading her way and she doesn’t have the time to summon another portal.

Someone lands between her and the oncoming car in a graceful arc. There’s a flash of purple light and the car splits in two. The woman turns, a long glowing sword in hand and surrounded with the aura of danger. She stares down at Clarice. “Get us out of here.”

Clarice pulls up another portal and they both tumble through to a safer post behind a building. Clarice takes the moment when the woman is checking the street to observe her.  Long legs and long dark hair; she’s beautiful, like something out of one of Clarice’s dreams.  

The woman turns, offers her hand to help Clarice stand.

“I’m fine,” Clarice says stubbornly. “We need to go, someone’s coming for my team.”

The X-Jet should be landing any moment. They never stay out on the field for long. It is far too dangerous when they can barely fight back against the Sentinels.

Clarice tries to stand on her own but the pain in her ankle made it difficult. She gasps, then berates herself for it because it only serves to make the woman look amused at her difficulty. She takes a moment to curse her luck before holding a hand back out to the woman.

“Please,” Clarice says, eating crow.

The woman leans and takes the hand. As she pulls Clarice up, she looks Clarice up and down. Clarice feels a little like she’s been put on display. She feels a little like she enjoys it.

The woman finally lets go of her hand as Clarice steadies on her feet, fingertips lingering against Clarice’s. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Clarice can hear the jet coming before she sees it fly overhead. There’s little time left before the team will be extracted. She summons up every bit of diplomacy she’s learned from watching the professor and tries to recruit the woman.

“We’re a group of mutants trying to stop all this,” Clarice starts. “You could come with us an-“

“No.  Not my style.” The woman starts to back up through the alley, waving a hand dismissively.

“They call me Blink,” Clarice offers in goodbye.

The woman gives the tiniest hint of a smile. “Psylocke. Until next time, Blink.”

-

Supplies are a constant need but always hard to find. Mostly they send out the ones who look the most human. The Sentinels can tell the difference but as long as humans can’t it gives a little layer of protection. The ones who can’t pass are doomed to always staying hidden, a backwards leap from where the Professor had tried to take them so long ago.

But mutants have survived for generations and even now the team sometimes found pockets of their brethren while on the run.

This is one of those rare times when they’ve found a little community to walk amongst, if only for the few hours before the Sentinels will likely catch wind. It meant that while bartering for supplies, Clarice is free to walk around with everyone else. Her eyes and markings won’t draw any stares or put any more of a target on her back than is already there. She loves these rare occasions more than she had words to express.

Wandering the scant stalls, stalls that were more overturned boxes than a true open market, she picks up what bandages and antiseptics she can find. James and Bobby will manage for food, Ororo will look for more substantial medical supplies. But all of them look for what might be needed. They live under the musketeer code nowadays.

She stops before a blanket laid with jewelry and smiles. It’s frivolous, but she’s glad some mutants still find value in the impractical. Maybe if this madness ever ends, true life can begin again. Clarice lingers over the few charms, touching silver daggers and delicate hearts. Another hand comes into view, picking up a cut, purple crystal.

“This one,” a familiar voice says, and Clarice looks up to watch Psylocke hand over a few vials of dark liquid in exchange for the necklace.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Clarice says, angling herself to walk with Psylocke down the row of stalls.

“I needed supplies,” the woman answers, thumping the bag she had slung over a shoulder.

“And that included new trinkets to wear?” Clarice smiles, stopping at an alcove just beyond the line of wares.

“Impulse buy.” She smirks, rolling the crystal between her fingers. She stills close enough to Clarice that their bodies nearly touch. Her eyes slide along the length of Clarice’s body, gaze stopping at her boots. “Fix your ankle?”

“I’m a quick healer.” Clarice says, aware that Psylocke sounds nothing like she is actually asking about the injury. It’s been a long time since she’s felt the spark of attraction, such things feel like they belong to the world from before the Sentinels took hold. It makes some part of her feel giddy to feel again a want that had nothing to do with living and it makes her feel powerful to see it so obviously returned.

“Mmm.” Psylocke hums, stepping further into Clarice’s space. Their arms brush and Clarice can feel the heat from Psylocke’s body. For a moment, with the way Psylocke stares at her mouth, Clarice thinks the woman may kiss her.  

The alarm sounds.  Someone start shouting that they can sense the Sentinels coming and the entire market is suddenly in an uproar.  Clarice drops her gaze, knowing she needs to get back to the others. “Time to say goodbye, Psylocke.”

“Until next time.” Psylocke takes Clarice’s hand and slips the charm until her palm. “Keep it for me.”

She disappears into the rushing crowd before Clarice can say more and Bobby arrives to gather her soon thereafter.

-

The speaker for the rally is loudmouthed, with a piercing and wholly irritating voice. It’s at the edge of giving Clarice a headache, but she doesn’t let herself wander further than the back of the crowd. They come to these gatherings for a reason. To connect, to learn. To recruit.

The Professor and Magneto have already cornered several young mutants. She can tell from the looks of things, that the conversation is going well. They’d lost Hank nearly eight days ago, Toad three days before that. They need to keep up their numbers if they’re to have any hope of survival.

She’s not needed for this part. The others are out mingling, talking amongst other mutants about plans and powers. She should join them, but the crowd tires her and she finds a corner to watch from.

“You’re not interested in protest plans?” A familiar voice says.

Clarice looks up to see Psylocke approaching. The sway of the woman’s hips is momentarily distracting and all she can think to do is shake her head. “The others will take care of it.”

Psylocke makes noise that Clarice thinks might be an aborted laugh. “Then what are you interested in?”

Clarice lets her gaze fall down the woman’s body, like she’d done to Clarice those weeks ago. “I can think of a few things.”

Psylocke’s smirk is enticing. Clarice longs to be away from the crowded room, to a place where she can explore it without all eyes being on them. She thinks, from the way Pyslocke shifts toward her, that maybe the woman feels the same.

“I’ve got business to attend to,” Psylocke says, much to her disappointment. “I just wanted to do something before I left.”

Clarice raises an eyebrow and hides her smile when Psylocke leans in. She feels lips brush under her eyes, where one of her marks sit. It feels strangely more intimate than a kiss on lips ever could. She can’t help the shiver that races up her spine.

Psylocke pulls away, touching Clarice’s arm. “Until next time.”

James finds Clarice shortly thereafter and introduces her to the newly recruited Roberto. He keeps glancing toward the door that Psylocke disappeared out of earlier. There’s a question in his eyes he’s too polite to ask and she doesn’t offer any answers.

She shares nearly everything with the group, but she wants to keep Psylocke to herself. 

-

It’s a standoff in the desert, heating blazing down on them. Of course the Sentinels are blasting them all with fire, burning what little brush exists out this far and making the atmosphere unbearable. She keeps opening portals to try to let Bishop fight from further away, but even at a distance the flames are making her blood boil.

She can feel in her bones how terrible of a battle it will be and she can’t keep the sinking feeling from her gut.

She catches glimpse of something bright and iridescent from the corner of her eye, and turns on habit to look. It’s a mistake. The split second lack of attention is all that the Sentinel needs to grab through the portal she’s made. She tries to close the portal around it, but the Sentinel is too strong.

“Bishop!” Clarice cries, hoping he can blast it back through.

He tries. Of course he tries. But the Sentinels are powerful and they’ve used Bishop’s abilities so often. The robot swipes out a hand and knocks Bishop aside. He crashes against the side of the mesa they’d been pinned against. He doesn’t get back up.

“No. No, no, no.” She whispers under her breath, trying with all her might to close the portal. It’s useless. The robot forces another arm through and her control breaks. She abandons the venture, running backward to try to reach Bishop. She has to get him away from here before they both end up dead.

The Sentinel shoots an arc of sharp metal pieces out around her. They catch at her arms even as she tries to dodge. One skirts against her thigh, causing a sharp pain that makes her stumble. She falls to one knee and even as she stands to run again she knows she’s lost precious time. She dives forward to try to avoid the next hit and instead feels an impact from her side that pushes her to the ground.

Clarice rolls to her back, struggles to get up and see what attacked her. She’s momentarily surprised to see Psylocke rising to her feet, sword drawn and flecks of blood spraying onto the sand between them. There isn’t time to keep staring or to exclaim about the woman’s obvious wound. Clarice pushes past the pain and jumps up, already forming another portal.

“Let’s go,” she shouts, putting a foot through.

“No!” Psylocke knocks a wave of metal from the air with her sword, tensing to push forward. “Leave.”

“Psy-” Clarice starts, reaching out.

“Leave!” Psylocke’s voice is thick with fury. She jumps toward the robot without so much as a glance back. The ground where she had stood is dark with spilled blood.

Clarice wants to stay to help, but she steps through the portal anyway. She collects Bishop’s slumped form and gets them both to a place behind the line of their friends, where she knows someone will be there to help him. They don’t stay at the battle for much longer. They all know a lost cause when they see it.

She does not see what becomes of Psylocke. She does not stop thinking about the blood.

-

They end up, that night, in a nearly deserted town in Egypt. There are enough buildings still standing to serve as cover for until morning and they fan out in one that she thinks may have once been a school. Bishop is being tended to by Ororo and the Professor. He’s injured, but alive and refuses her need to apologize with short assurances that it was not her fault.

Clarice thinks they all are being far to kind to her for how guilty she feels.

All she can think, as she picks a room and lays out her bed roll, is that she should have done more. She should have reacted faster to keep Bishop from being hurt. She should have stayed with Psylocke. She should have insisted the woman come with them. 

Despite night falling and bringing cooler air with it, her blood is still boiling. She feels angry with herself in a way she rarely does, and hopeless. She throws her boots when she pulls them off and nearly rips out locks of hair when she undoes her braid. When she sinks into her bedding it’s with hands covering her face.

“Don’t tell me you’re crying over me.”

Clarice jerks, halfway to summoning a portal before she pinpoints the woman stumbling through the window. Psylocke has an arm held tightly to her side, a grimace on her face, and her clothes are singed and torn. Still, the sight of her makes Clarice’s heart jump in her chest.

“You survived,” she says and then feels foolish for the shock in her voice.

Psylocke does not look offended. She smiles instead, a sharp and edged thing, and leans heavily against the wall.

“So did you,” she starts and then cringes.

Clarice rises to her feet in a flash and crosses to her. “You’re hurt. Let me go get someone to help.”

“I’m fine,” Psylocke bites out, though she lets Clarice lead her to the bedding.

“You’re not. Let me help.”

“I’m fine.” Psylocke looks up at Clarice defiantly. There’s so much pride in her eyes.

Clarice bristles. “You want to pretend you’re not hurt? Fine. Be that way. Why did you even come to me?”

 “You know why.” Pyslocke says, voice low.

Clarice does know. It’s just that it infuriates her too. No attraction is enough to risk a life over and the world is far too dangerous now to act on foolish desires. She should tell Psylocke to leave.

She kisses her instead.

As far as first kisses go, Clarice has had better. There’s something too raw about this kiss, too angry and desperate. But the pleasure of it, of another person, is something she’s missed for too long and she keeps going when Psylocke doesn’t push her away.

They fall together onto the bedding and Psylocke grunts in discomfort. Clarice pulls back, ready to stop but Pyslocke rolls them over until she’s on top. Her hand threads into Clarice’s hair, fingertips a whisper against her scalp.

“Like this.” She speaks against Clarice’s lips, taking her hand and pressing it against a breast.

“Yes?” Clarice asks, breathing her in.

Her answer is a kiss and a thigh slipping between Clarice’s own.

They don’t fall asleep together, after, because this is not that kind of life anymore. She watches Psylocke slide from the bed to get dressed, pulling the blanket up to her collar bone and wishing things were different. She wishes she had something profound to say, or a decade’s worth of peace to get to know the woman she worried she may never see again.

“You could come with us,” Clarice says at last. She already knows what the answer will be, but she has to ask anyway.

Psylocke pauses in adjusting her boots, casts a sideways look toward the bed. The shake of her head is subtle, but not unexpected. “You stay with your friends. You belong here.”

There’s no point in arguing, so Clarice just rolls onto her back and sighs. She won’t leave the X-Men, not even for a chance at whatever she feels between them. “Do you want your necklace back?”

Psylocke comes over to the side of the bed and leans down on her elbows until she’s hovering above Clarice. The kiss is short, a goodbye if Clarice has ever known one. There will be no promise of a next time, they can both feel the finality filling the air. “Keep it. It suits you better.”

Clarice watches her as she leaves the room, wishing she had the power to make her come back. She dresses quickly, then closes her eyes until Kitty comes knocking. She holds unto the necklace until they get back on the jet, stuffing the charm into her pocket before anyone can start asking questions.

-

The professor lays out the plan with a certain hope shining in his eyes that she hasn’t seen in years. It’s a chance to change their fates, if they don’t die in the process. Everyone’s excited and Clarice can’t blame them. It’s the best hope they’ve had since the mess began.

But still. She thinks of the world changing and reaches in her pocket. Her hand curls around the charm, feeling the sting of the edges cutting into her palm. All the bad things of this world will be erased.

Clarice wonders if any of the good will make it to the next life.

-

“Watch out!”

Clarice ducks on instinct. A football soars overhead, getting caught by a teenage boy with spikes protruding from his arms. The dark haired boy that yelled at her looks at her sheepishly when she straightens, but runs off with his friend with a laugh. There are kids swarming around where she stands in the lobby, rushing to and from class or heading out with friends.

This is what life will be for her now.

“Evan, Jamie! No playing ball indoors.” Ororo comes forward from the crowd, scolding the children even as she gives Clarice a smile. Ororo stops to shake her hand. “Welcome back, Clarice.”

“It’s good to be back, Miss Munroe.”

“I think you can call me Ororo now, since we’ll be working together.” Ororo holds out an arm, gesturing Clarice to walk with her. “You’re a teacher, not a student anymore.”

Clarice can’t help but grin, falling into step with Ororo as the woman leads her through the twisting halls of the school. She doesn’t need to be shown around, not after attending the institute for the majority of her teenage years, but it’s nice to have Ororo catch her up on what’s been going on since she left for college. The students are predictably not the same, but the teachers wear the same faces and it’s comforting to have so many stop them to say hello again. It’s a homecoming in every way.

“Charles is in a class right now but he’ll want to speak with you later to welcome you back.” Ororo stops in front of a door. The nameplate is already made up with Clarice’s name and Ororo taps it with a proud smile. “But until then, why don’t you get settled in your office?”

They push the door open and Ororo makes a noise of surprise. Sitting at the desk is a tall woman with long dark hair who barely looks up from her book when they enter. She marks her place leisurely, giving Ororo the tiniest hint of a smile.

“You need the room?” She says, standing gracefully. She’s beautiful, like something out of Clarice’s dreams. Enough so that Clarice can’t help but stare.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in here,” Ororo says, stepping further inside to make room for Clarice.

“I just wanted some quiet,” the woman says, glancing briefly and curiously at Clarice.

“That’s hard to find in a school.” Clarice looks between the woman and Ororo. She puts on her best smile. “Clarice Ferguson, the new sociology teacher.”

“And this is Betsy,” Ororo introduces. “She’s working on X-Men business.”

Clarice raises an eyebrow. “Miss Braddock. I remember hearing about you in class.”

“En Sabah Nur.” Besty murmurs. She looks amused and a lot like she expects Clarice to be afraid.

Clarice offers a hand instead. “And from Ororo’s stories. It’s a pleasure.”

Betsy looks down at the offered greeting pointedly, then smirks. When they lock hands, Betsy steps into the hold and takes a long moment to look Clarice up and down. Clarice feels a little like she’s been put on display. She feels a little like she enjoys it.

Betsy finally lets go of her hand, fingertips lingering against Clarice’s. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

 


End file.
